


Wrap Myself in the Warmth of You

by GrizztoMySam



Series: Reunion Fics [2]
Category: The Society (TV 2019), grizzam - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Reunion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrizztoMySam/pseuds/GrizztoMySam
Summary: How Sam tries to cope with Grizz's absence during the expedition for land.





	Wrap Myself in the Warmth of You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr. Tweaked a bit and edited hopefully for the better. LMAO. 
> 
> For story sake the fight happened in Sam’s bedroom at Allies and I’m lowkey lost on the timeline of baby Eden’s birth and can’t be bothered to rewatch for accuracy rn so lets say she gave birth right after the send off for the explorers. Also in this version of things Allie wins the mayoral election so everything is chill.

As he watches Grizz disappear into the woods with the explorers, for a moment that suffocates, like Campbell's unflinching grip on the fleshy part of his nape that had often drew blood from his nails that dug deep, Sam has an uncontrollable need to scream.

It disappears as quick as it comes and he trudges back to the hospital while the send off crowd disperse.

He walks with a locked gaze to the ground. Avoids walking on the cracks that sporadically spread across the concrete pavement.

_Step on a crack, you'll break your mother's back._

Sam is not one for superstition but anything that might count or help. Keep away bad vibes or....

The burnt dried leaves, beneath his feet begin to blur and bleed together, as wet salty drops hit his lips. He stops by the side ally behind the hospital, hands white knuckled grasping unto the brick wall that cuts into the pads of his palm and fingers. He welcomes the pain.

It's tangible unlike the feeling that's stuck in the back of his throat, nameless but nagging.

He focus on it and composes himself.

It’s not the time for theatrics or feelings.

But he suffers.

Hurts more than he’ll admit.

The outside is silent, as it’s always been. Cruel in its ignorance to the noise in his mind of incessant what ifs.

Oh the irony.

He's only ever known quiet yet his head won’t shut the fuck up.

But he also needs to worry about important things; Becca and Eden.

Because pining and missing and fearing for the boy who now had permanent realstate in his heart is not important.

Yet his mind is stubborn and won't let up.

It has a treacherous alliance with his damn heart and he wakes up for the third night in a row, cold sweat dripping from the line of his neck down his back with a dread so strong he can taste bile thick and choking. He knows he needs to do something. He can’t let this….

Whatever this is that he will not name, he refuses to name, to take over.

He decides one afternoon to leave the hospital early after giving a sleeping Becca and baby Eden goodbye kisses. Leaves a trail of promises from his lips against the soft fuzz of the baby’s tiny head. Stealing across town he heads towards the outskirts near the wooded border. He’d only ever gone there during that one time with Grizz.

That one time when he had for the very first time felt so much. Emotions so big and beyond him, he'd feared drowning. 

But he knew he was happy.

God, to feel that again.

He arrives outside a familiar set of arched wooden doors, black cast iron handle he thinks are still warm from when Grizz had opened them last. Opened them with trembling hands that had grabbed his own as he was lead across the foyer and up the stairs to Grizz’s room.

Sam stops outside the bedroom door. The tremor that has started, with a wake of white hot heat like static that crawls up from his toes, onto each rung of his spine, stops him outside the bedroom door.

The room is untouched, the sheets of the bed have not moved from their tangled mess, a corner of the duvet trailing the floor. There are the books they had left on his desk, still in an haphazard pile, two on Cicero and a third about 100 ways to cook carrots. And on the back of the rotating chair hangs Grizz’s Letterman jacket, the sight of startles him with the crude joke the older boy had quipped while he had been sprawled naked over Grizz, happy and sated like some wanton incubus.

He takes the room two by two, urgent strides towards the chair, grabbing the jacket and buries his head against the collar, breathing deep because for a while now he’s forgotten how.

The scent hits him sharp and if he closes his eyes he can pretend Grizz is still there holding him tight–

And he’s fallen to the ground, hard on his knees, clutching the jacket close as wails he can’t hear leave his mouth carrying the pain that has latched it’s angry claws into the side by his ribs, broken into skin and teeth that has gnawed at bone that have become cracked and splintered and have punctured his lungs, filling it with black poison that burns into his veins.

_Grizz...please come back. I need you to come back, safe. _

_To me._

It’s hours later, he forgets to count, the room now dark, has shadows that reach, beckon for him and he’s sure Becca is awake and worried where he’s run off to. His back is aching and his knees will bruise ugly and purple but there’s a lightness that flows beneath his skin. There is no longer lead in his lungs and his heart beats without the sharpness of broken glass cutting into him.

He puts on the jacket; the leather is soft and worn.

Loved.

It falls near his knees and the sleeves are outrageous in its length, but he’s warm and it smells like him.

He leaves, pocketing a framed picture of Grizz in his football uniform.

The days stack up, a week and then almost two. And when the nightmares do come, because they still do, clamoring angry creatures with slithering tongues that threaten him with lies, he wraps the jacket tighter around him, running his thumb against the picture in its right pocket.

He hides it in an old shopping bag under his bed during the day. Wants to avoid questions. Afraid if people found out he’d have to return it. Afraid what he’ll do if he loses this tactile piece connected to the boy he’d finally given to admitting he can’t live without.

When day 14 arrives and still no news, he clutches the jacket around him so tight his arms go numb. Wishes he no longer could feel. Wishes he was stone.

He cries and prays to a god he sure will refuse to hear him. Prays regardless for safe passage and his beloved to be returned because he loves him.

He loves Grizz and he needs him back because he needs to tell him he loves him and he needs him back because he needs—-

Because he’s only just found him and it’s not fair.

_You’ve taken everything from me..have pity and leave me but a crumb._

The world is still dark and silent when a soft yet calloused thumb gently feels the space of his jaw and down the side of his neck. It moves to smooth back errant curls by his temple and rubs small circles on the soft pad of his ear.

It slow when he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t want to wake from this dream.

He does so reluctantly when his ear is tugged twice, and it’s hazel eyes that stare back, crinkled lines at the corners, that are warm and look like home and also seem tired but there is a teasing quirk to the lips on this face that’s watching him expectantly.

It’s a minute, because he desperately needs this to be real, before he launches himself onto Grizz, straddling the older boy, hips flush against hips, his arms and hands grasping and grabbing at Grizz’s waist and back, and his face because Sam can’t feel him enough. A strangled cry of “I love you, I love you I love you, I want you to know that I love you, don’t ever leave me again” stream from him.

Grizz is real and he’s here and things are complicated but he's come back safe and that's all that matters for now. Sam’s cheek feels the rumble of something between what must be a laugh and crying and its so deep he wants to wager at praying again to see if another will be answered because he really really wants be able to hear right now.

But then lips are on his and all thoughts are forgotten. It’s hurried and desperate, teeth and tongue, nipping and biting and tasting, and marking and remembering.

“My Letterman jacket, huh?”

They both lay under the covers, chest to chest, hands with fingers intertwined, a picture reminiscent of their first time together. Sam stays silent, suddenly too shy to reveal too much. He stalls, playing with a scabbing cut on the knuckle of Grizz's thumb. Wants to kiss it better, instead, he reaches for a peck at the corner of Grizz’s lips still swollen and wet, proud of his fluent signing and scoots back down to place his head against the expanse of skin near the crook of Grizz’s shoulder. But his chin is lifted, furrowed brows question him, concerned.

“It helped…when you…it kept me warm.” 

He speaks it to the smooth paleness of Grizz’s neck, refusing to look him in the eyes. His signing fingers are kissed, a sweet and reassuring gesture that makes him feel a tightening and a growing sting in his throat, and if he starts he knows he won’t be able to stop.

Grizz seems to know too because he doesn’t push. He pulls Sam closer, tighter, a brush on his cheek with lingering lips, and an inhale as if breathing him in. Then a movement and vibrations against his ear that pulls him back to ask what Grizz had said.

With a quick nip at his bottom lip and a glint that’s all mischief, Grizz signs “I want you wearing it all the time…fucking sexy as hell.”

His cheeks are blushed scarlet, but fuck it because God damn is he happy.


End file.
